It was nearly midday when she spotted it, shimmering in the sun. A city of white.

“Is that . . . a mirage?” she asked.

“No, that would be Fairview. They whitewash the buildings. A beacon for the weary traveler on the Wastes.”

“Ah, a fair view indeed.” She tried to smile, but her heart pounded too hard. “So this is it, then. If Ashyn—when Ashyn made it through the Wastes, this is where she’d go.”

“It is, and she did. You know she did. We saw no signs otherwise, and as you said many times, you’d know if she was gone. She’s there—or she was there and you’ll have news of her.”

“And the children?”

He paused then. “I still . . . I do not see the point in men taking the children.”

“Does evil need a purpose?”

Another pause. “If the children were taken, perhaps that proves that what happened at Edgewood was not evil. That the massacre at Edgewood was a mistake, one that could not be reversed but could be mitigated by saving the most innocent.”

Even after all they’d seen, he could not accept it. Should she blame him, when she still skirted around the treacherous ice of her father’s death?

Gavril cleared his throat. “I doubt the children would be here, though. Those men would push on to Riverside, where the warlord resides. Fairview does not even have a proper garrison.”

“I’ll worry about the children later. Ashyn will be here.” She found her smile then, a blazing grin as her heart lifted. “I’ll race you.”

She wheeled and took off, Daigo at her side.

“Keeper!”

She turned, still moving. “Yes, only children run. I don’t care. You can be mature and walk.”

He gestured to the sword hanging at his side. “It’s not about maturity. Run and I end up with bruises.”

She laughed. “Then you must walk, Kitsune.” She started to turn away again, then looked back. “Is my face clean?”

“Yes, Keeper. Your face is clean. Your hair is tame. Your clothing looks as if you’ve been walking for five days in the Wastes, but if you don’t stand too close to anyone, you’ll be fine.”

She made a face at him and took off.

Guards met Moria as soon as she drew close. She stopped running then and walked with all the dignity she could muster, one hand resting on the handle of a sheathed dagger, the other on Daigo’s head.

“I am Moria of Edgewood,” she called as the guards walked out. “Keeper of the Forest of the Dead.”

Like her, they had their hands on their sheathed weapons. Caution devoid of disrespect. Now they dipped their heads.

“Welcome, Keeper.”

Gavril walked up beside her.

“I am the Keeper’s guard,” he said. “From the Edgewood garrison.”